Guide In Death
by Qhornn
Summary: A sorrowful channeler whom dwells within Pokemon Tower of Lavender Town discovers spiritual connections with the lost souls of pokemon, whether they are light or dark.
1. Prologue

Guide In Death: Prologue - Lavender Soul

In death, we do not stop existing. Our ability to interact with this world is not tied to this earth by our physical bodies, but by our collective experiences that we retain throughout our lives. This is what our spirits are, and our spirits are the last remnants of who or what we are when our physical bodies decay. When nothing more remains of our earthly breathing bodies, the soul that is released persists, acting upon the physical realm through what the wisp remembers strongest about life.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seik. I'm a channeler who lives in the Pokemon Tower in Lavender Town, Kanto. Ever since my first pokemon, my beloved Oddish, was killed in a battle against a wild Fearow, I've been rather depressed when it comes to all things pokemon.

I was told to bring the corpse of my best friend to this hallowed tower where she would be buried at peace. When I walked into the tower, there were others, others who were mourning the loss of their beloved companions as dreadfully as I. A man's Growlithe had failed to recover from a vicious case of PokePneumonia. A young girl wept for her Pidgey that was decapitated in a freak accident in the pitch-black Rock Tunnel. I knew that I wasn't alone when it came to losing a beloved life-companion, but being surrounded by others whose hearts were weeping bloody tears only made me fall even further down the twisted stairway of despair.

As I held my Oddish bundled in a bloody cloth, a strange woman approached me. She wore all white with red along the laces of her robe and her large circular hat. The moment she saw the dripping red cloth in my hands with her wide, unreal glare, she approached me.

"Have you come to lay your beloved pokemon to rest in this celebrated tower?" she asked me in a weak voice. It was the type of voice that came from someone whom rarely ever spoke, and she sounded like if she continued not to speak for much longer her voice would have vanished from her throat completely.

I held up my poor, ravaged Oddish in her small body bag made out of one of my few spare shirts. The tears in my eyes had all but dried up, but it was impossible for me to speak without choking on my sadness. "Y-yes...please..."

The robed woman nodded weakly at me before reaching out for my perished companion with her pale white hands. As she was about to grab a hold of Oddish, I felt my mind become overwhelmed by a maddening urge to turn back and run out of the tower as fast as I could. Oddish wasn't really dead, she was just resting and recovering from the Fearow attack... When Fearow's razor beak slashed through Oddish's main artery, it only made her faint. She was alive.

But I never did run out of that sad tower. The madness that ate away at my mind wasn't strong enough to turn me away from allowing my dear friend to rest in everlasting peace. She took the bloody bundle from my shaking hands, and as she did, I finally felt as though I had lost Oddish forever, that a part of my being, my soul, had died the moment Oddish's chlorophyllic blood covered the ground around that winged harbinger of suffering. Without opening the blood-stained shirt, the woman stared me in the eye, into my soul, with her horrid wide eyes before weakly screeching, "Not to worry. Your little Oddish will be gently put to rest. If you want, you can accompany me while I find the right spot for this little one."

Tears tried to force themselves out of my weary face once more, but I managed to weakly murmur, "...ok..."

I'll never forget the excruciating pain I felt as I watched the channeler gently place my young Oddish into a small hole that was prepared on the second floor of Pokemon Tower. She covered the reddened wrapping with soft soil before placing a floor tile over Oddish's grave. Looking up, I noticed the tombstone above her resting place was blank.

I turned to the channeler for a moment and was about to speak, but my tongue tied itself and all I could manage was a weak "uhhhr" sound. The channeler stood up with her arms in the air and her insane eyes toward the ceiling.

"Young Oddish, we lay you to rest in this grave. Your trainer is here, and wishes for you to rest your weary soul so that he may know that you have gone in peace. You will never be forgotten."

I watched in sadness and awe as the solid tombstone began to carve itself into words. It read: "R.I.P. Oddish, companion of Seik. May her soul know only peace."

My heart ached at the sight of those words. I turned to the channeler and lightly bowed my head. "Th-thank y-you..."

So much pain, so much heartache. The experience ended up traumatizing me, ending my short-lived journey as a pokemon trainer, and preventing me from ever making extended contact with any pokemon. Every time I saw a pokemon, it was Oddish. Every trainer battle I observed, it was Oddish vs Fearow. I felt as though I had experienced a hundred heart attacks over the three months after having lost my friend.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, I've secluded myself within Pokemon Tower of Lavender Town, avoiding contact with any people, whether they were mourners or maddened channelers, and avoiding all pokemon. For eight years I have wallowed in my sadness and grief alone, believing that I only brought pain with my existence, that I could never accept myself as a human being. I never saw another human or pokemon for the time I had barricaded myself from reality.

And yet, after eight years of wandering the tower, I began to realize I wasn't alone...


	2. Chapter 1

Guide In Death: Chapter 1 - Daily Rituals

My blackened eyes slowly opened. Years of sorrow and depression left permanent gray marks beneath my lower eye lids, and it made it somewhat difficult for me to awaken each day, or whatever time it was when my sleep decided to abruptly drop me from the blissful ecstasy of dreaming back into the cold blackness of reality. But, I digress.

Putting on my ceremonial white hat that all channelers wore, I looked over to the tombstone near the stairway with a basket of food on top. It read: "R.I.P. Lightning. Companion of Shannon. May his soul know only peace." Beneath the formal text was more writing. The scratchy text was hard to read and was carved into the rock with someone's fingernails, evident from the bloodstains throughout the words. It read: "No Pidgeot will ever be as great as you. I love you" followed by a long, red, zigzagged, clawed-in line from the last letter to the bottom of the stone.

I always seemed to read this tombstone everyday, mostly due to the fact that someone left food for me on it every day. I never knew who did, but whoever it was brought it every day for almost a decade now. How bothersome, that someone would go out of their way every day just to allow me to eat.

Reaching in the worn brown basket, I pulled out a small roll of bread. Steam lightly flowed off of it, showing it was freshly made. The roll was always my favorite part of the day, so I always ate it first to get it out of the way.

I sat down in my usual spot between the tomb of a Pikachu and a "Pebbles", whatever "Pebbles" was. It was a shame to look at the graves before me as I ate my food. I've lived in this tower for so long, and nobody ever comes to visit their pokemon's grave. When they first arrive, they weep and weep and weep, much like I did. If they cared so much, why do they not return to pay their respects every now and then? The souls of lost pokemon greatly yearn for extended contact with their loved ones.

I put the basket down and stood up, routinely walking toward the stairway on the other side of the room. The blue-gray stone steps of the stairway were beginning to crumble slightly from age, but I never really used caution while climbing up to the fifth floor.

As I walked into the fifth floor room, I was greeted by the usual restless souls that hovered high in the air near the ceiling. They were quite unnerving to look at; their bodies were a very dark, wispy purple that flowed off of them like stringy smoke, and they sported two hands at their sides that were limped downward, as if they were in dark pursuit of something. Their eyes were short, bright yellow triangles and were just above their eerily thin mouths. Usually, they had a strange smile across their face, the type of smile that makes you want to avoid them, as if what they were smiling about was something dark and unholy. But on occasion, they would frown. It was on those days that I kept my guard up, for every time the wandering souls of the fifth floor of the Pokemon Tower did not smile, something happened in the sad town outside; something horrible. In my time here, I have seen them in disarray twice. The first time it occurred, a small child outside was cleaved in half by a buzz saw that broke off of a piece of lumber machinery. The second time, well... I don't like to think about that one. Let's just say that a man was buried alive, but wasn't done with life. And yet...

I looked up to the scrambling ghosts above me as I have every day. Their faces were disturbingly grinning as usual, signaling that something awful probably wouldn't happen today. Good, this town doesn't need any more misery with me here. Even though nothing bad would happen, however, I always got deathly chills when I saw their sh*t-eating grin.

There it was on the right side of the room. I knelt down to the familiar tombstone before me. "R.I.P. Oddish, companion of Seik. May her soul know only peace." Deep down, I was very glad that we were able to move Oddish from the second floor up to here, away from those monsters and criers.

Out of my pocket, I pulled out what remained of the delicious roll I saved from breakfast. Gently upon the floor tile that my dear friend decayed beneath, I placed the roll.

"Good morning, Oddish. I hope you're feeling well."

I put my hand on the top of the tombstone and closed my weary eyes. My mind became a hazy blur, my body felt weightless, and my chest felt an immense pressure. From the building pain in my chest, I felt my soul send a connection down to my fingertips. I never knew if anything visual occurred when I tapped into the dead's soul, but nobody was around to see anyhow.

I could feel my spirit making contact with another. The feeling was unmistakable; I suppose the only way I could describe it would be to imagine the vulnerability and tenderness of every vein and artery in your body surging with a stinging feeling. If you've ever had your blood drawn for any reason, imagine the feeling of the needle piercing your vein, but all throughout your body, and your heart.

Oddish's presence surged within my mind. It was a shame we could not verbally communicate like this, but at least we shared the feeling of being in the same room and realm as one another.

I smiled within my mind, unsure if my body responded into same way. The feeling faded, and Oddish was once more on a completely different plane than I; the Plane of Death, as I call it. I always wondered where one's soul goes when they die and have no lasting vendettas in life, unlike...

I looked up at the swarming ghosts above, feeling a chill shooting down my spine.

I suppose none of us will ever truly know until that day comes.

I gently patted Oddish's tombstone before turning away toward the staircase I had come through. With my eyes closed, I walked toward the exit stairs, trying my best to not look at the restless souls above me.

I wondered if Oddish actually receives the roll that I leave her everyday. When I walk back to her grave the next day, it's gone. Maybe some filthy insane channeler waits nearby everyday and eats my offering like a rat...

As I was about to enter the floor below, I began to hear people's voices.

"Get away from me!"

I lightly turned my head into the room to see what the ruckus was all about. It had been a long time since I had seen other people, and an even longer time since I had interacted with one. In the room, a small man was cornered by a channeler. He must have been no older than twenty-five years, and by the looks of it, he was not an active trainer. The channeler's eyes were unnaturally open, the pupils shrunken to a tiny piercing dot, showing clear signs of possession.

"I just came to lay a flower on my Charmeleon's grave. What do you want from me?"

The channeler held his pale, shriveled hands outward without extending his fingers. His fingernails were untrimmed and disgusting, making his hands seem like those of the undead.

"Blood..." the crazed channeler hissed in a wretched voice.

I knew where this was going. Yet another channeler had fallen to a vengeful pokemon's spirit, becoming fully possessed in body, mind, and soul.

"What? Get away from me! Somebody, help!"

A twinge of sadness hit my heart. I'm sorry, young man. I would help, but I do not have any pokemon to fight the spirit that controls that puppet of a man, and I am not powerful enough to exorcise it directly. I'm afraid that there is no escaping your terrible fate.

"Need... Blood..." the insane channeler muttered as he moved toward the helpless man.

I closed my eyes and turned away. "No...no! Help me-aaAAAAAAGH!" the man yelled. I slowly reascended the staircase I had just climbed down, all the while hearing the sound of ripping flesh, crunching bones, and blood being splashed across the walls and tombstones.

This wasn't the first time a possessed channeler had viciously slaughtered an innocent mourner, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. Channelers always left their souls vulnerable when channeling the dead, but-

"HELP ME!"

I turned and looked down the stairwell. At the bottom, the man was reaching out to me. The right half of his face had been torn off savagely, exposing the raw, bleeding muscles of his head, and his right eye was missing. A mix of horrified tears and hemorrhaging blood spilled out of his eye socket while his remaining eye struggled to maintain focus. His desperate hand was coated in his own blood as he tried to cling to life by reaching to me. I couldn't see much, but from the top of the stairs, I could see that his other arm had been severed at the elbow.

My heart ached at the knowledge that I could not help this man. As I watched him helplessly try to climb after me, a white hand grabbed him by his hair and slowly dragged him back around the corner out of my sight.

"NO! PLEASE, HELP M-"

As he tried to finish his plea, I heard the sound of someone's skull being crushed. Such a shame...

I reentered the room, assured that I didn't want to see the mangled remains a floor below. Looking up, I saw the restless spirits continuing to swirl around sporadically with their evil smiles corrupting the room. How brutal, that a man had been eaten alive moments ago, and these spirits are to blame. But are they the ultimate source of sorrow in this depressed town of ours?

No.

Many of the violent spirits in Pokemon Tower became what they are because they felt abandoned, tossed aside by their supposed best friends, who dumped their lifeless soul capsules into a grave without a second thought of ever returning. A corrupted bond of friendship, of love. It's comparable to two married people being in love for fifty years before one passes away, then the remaining mate dumps the bothersome corpse into a garbage can.

I tightly clenched my fists. What type of person could possibly do that to their pokemon?

The swirling souls above became energetic, spiraling into a focused circle of disturbed ghosts. They were becoming impatient with my prolonged presence.

"Don't get fussy. I'm only going to be here for a little while longer." I spoke casually, as if they were close acquaintances of mine, but deeply etched into my mind and my soul, I greatly quaked in unnerving fear at their hand of vengeance. They lack mercy, a heart, and a sense of threat. Even if you were to appease them for decade after decade, they wouldn't think twice before granting you a slow and painful murder.

I glanced back at Oddish's grave. "Rest well, little Oddish."

Figuring the insane channeler must have dragged his victim away by now, I descended the stairs once more so that I may resume my daily rituals. However...

The sound of ripping flesh and dripping blood filled my weary ears as I saw the forsaken channeler digging into the man's pried open ribcage.

I sighed to myself. To deal with this on a weekly, almost daily basis was taxing, but this is what my life had become. Hopefully one day, the restless spirits of abandoned pokemon will be granted redemption, and will be able to enter the eternal bliss of complete death. Perhaps once that happened, this town, as well as I, can finally move onto times that may be brighter... But I doubted that.

I walked up to the feasting cannibal in the corner of the room. "Ok, little demon. I think that channeler and that corpse have had enough."


End file.
